Saturday, January 28, 2012


Wasn't going to fish today at all but I couldn't think of anything better to do so grabbed my gear and headed out.

I chose not to battle with the crowds upriver and so pointed my truck towards the quaintness of Sarah Court.  I found some willing fish but they were just lil bait nippers.  I finally got one to stick when my float sank.  It was a shiny, scrappy smolt...

Moved up to the next bar and found even fewer fish.

I did find a tidy lil campsite in the alder and willow trees someone had staked out.  It was complete with; rubber raft mattress, rock ring fireplace, kindling neatly stacked betwixed two as-yet-unfelled trees and an empty carton of Donald Duck Orange Juice.   I took note of all this as I used the toilet.  I flushed with sand, rocks, leaves and a seasoned digging stick so the tenant wouldn't have sewage in his living room.

WTMI?  Well, if the fishing was better...

I hiked back out and when I arrived at the parking lot, was oh so happy to find my truck with all doors, hatches and windows intact.

I grabbed some fast food and took stock of the time.  HELL!! Its' only 1530 hours!  I can zoom on up to Sailor Bar and be fishing 'fore 4 and so it was done.

There were way too many cars and trucks in the dirt when I got there so I knew I'd have some kinda company but also knew that most of the riff raff would be stomping around on the spawning gravel and though not so great for spawning fish, would be great for fishing well above and away from the morons...

I tried to float the area but the sun shone too brightly between my bobber and me and it hurt my eyeballs too damn much to try and follow it.  I sent a spoon out there next.  I made several swings through the sweet water before my line stopped and I felt that slow womp, womp.  I lifted the rod and took a slow, lazy swing upward but it only raised the fish and raised the fish's awareness enough to spit the barbless, Siwash hook.

With only a good hour of light left, I decided to pick the most sensible tactic (bottom bouncing roe) and stick with it.

Zeroing in on the spot and the correct weight took longer than usual.  It was a more precise exercise than usual.  1-1/4" of 1/4" lead was too much and 1/2" of 3/16" was not enough and it couldn't just be tossed and drifted... I had to lift, reel, drop, slide, let sit, slow down, help it along etc... to keep from getting hung up.

I changed baits from flo red to natural to orange and back to flo red.  I got bit on all of it.  The first fish was a big buck that felt like a log until I moved and it moved... I lost that one.  I hooked a second fish right out in front that was a more classic take.  She came unbuttoned also.

Some guy with a spinner started encroaching on the water I was working.  He stayed just barely out of the way though it kind of irked me that with miles of river, he found the need to stand 10 yards from where I had just lost a fish.  I contemplated saying something and then the best possible thing happened... the water exploded not too far from his leg. 

A bright little buck of about 5lbs. tore up the water and seemed to splash DUMBASS! at the befuddled spinner guy who asked, "You got it?" "Yah, I got it... and was just about to tell you, just a few minutes  ago... I lost a fish right where your standing..."

A jumping, splashing fish at ones' feet is the best possible way to let a guy know he's in your drift, snicker, snicker~;)

It was a long. long day that closed with a happy ending and a purdy sunset.

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